


The Monster Mash

by Lif61 (UltimateFandomTrash)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (temporary - gets ressurected), Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Biting, Blood Drinking, Dead baby, Demons, F/M, Gore, Halloween, Halloween Costumes, Kitten, M/M, Magic, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Monster sex, Necromancer Castiel, Necromancy, Non-con mention, Raising the Dead, Rough Sex, Trick or Treating, Vampire Dean Winchester, Werewolf Sam Winchester, Zombie Jack Kline, bestiality mention, consumption of human flesh, dead animal, graveyards, necrophilia mention, vampire movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 13:44:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21254321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateFandomTrash/pseuds/Lif61
Summary: It’s Halloween and Sam, Dean, and Castiel always like to do something big. What else are a vampire, a werewolf, and a necromancer going to do on such a fabled night? Last year they raised the dead, some years it’s hunting, but this year they have other plans, and they add a new member to their odd little family.





	The Monster Mash

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this based off of the 2017 EW photoshoot that J2M did, and then I decided to also add in Jack Kline. Hopefully all the parts with him are more along the cute side of Halloween themed. And don't let the tags frighten you. They're monsters, so they're just used to the creepier side of life.
> 
> Happy Halloween, everyone! Hope you have a fun-filled day!

The jack-o’-lanterns had been set out on the front stairs, candles sitting in them, flames sputtering in their mouths, and the fake spider webs had been strung up, though real spiders had been coaxed to them (albeit dead ones), and other decorations had been put in place: a few stolen gravestones, some bones from Castiel’s leftover spells or ones he just wasn’t currently using, a bit of blood (Dean had been willing to give it up), teeth (according to Cas they looked great lying out when filed down to a sharp point), plenty of orange and gold candles, and of course some black lace. Sam thought Dean would find the black lace too girly, but who cared? They were going all out for Halloween this year. Sure it was just for them. No one could come out to the bunker, no one could even find it, but it was theirs to enjoy.

Sam grabbed one of the bones — maybe a femur — and he flipped it, smiling when it landed perfectly back in his hand. He was out by the war room, had just finished lying out the last filed tooth. He wasn’t too fond of the tooth decorations, but they counted as part of the dead, so it was something Castiel had, and according to Castiel Sam knew all about sharp teeth, so he got tooth duty every year. Now he was swinging the bone around like it was a knife, gripping it with two hands.

He dropped it, startled, when a gruff voice snuck up behind him, asking, “What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

The bone cracked down the middle when it hit the stone floor, and Sam’s shoulders raised to his ears.

Sam turned to Castiel, wincing.

God, he was surprised he hadn’t smelled him coming, or heard his heartbeat. But maybe Castiel had recently gotten done with a corpse and had taken from them to mask all that. Was he trying to do something for when Dean came back, some surprise?

“Uh… uh… N-nothing, Castiel.”

“Pick it up,” the necromancer ordered.

Sam pressed his lips together, embarrassed, and did so.

Castiel lightly smacked him over the head with it, and then asked, “What if I played with your kills every full moon?”

“That’s different!” Sam reasoned.

“Mm hmm.”

He went and placed the bone back at its place on the table, and leaned over to blow on it, his breath sealing up the crack.

“It is! You don’t _need_ the bodies like I need hearts. Besides” — now Sam flashed his eyes gold at Cas as he turned back to him, and pushed his fangs out — “if you get in the way I can always bite you.”

Cas tilted his head at him. “Sam, I sleep with a vampire. Biting is not what frightens me.”

Sam opened his mouth to say something to that, but then he heard blood pumping, the shuffle of footsteps, a bag bumping against a torso. Oh, thank god. He gave Cas an awkward look, but pat him on the shoulder, and went up the steps to get the door for Dean.

Just on time, his brother sauntered in, lips cherry red, looking quite pleased with himself. The smell of iron clung to him, and there were other scents. He’d brought gifts.

“Back from my hunt!” Dean announced. “A heart for you,” he handed it to Sam. It was still all squishy, scarlet liquid slopping off of it, and god, Sam’s pulse raced, and he was sure his vision was almost turning red. “Know it’s not the full moon yet, Sammy. But never too early for a snack.” There was a duffel bag over his shoulder, and he pushed past Sam, going down the stairs, smiling at Castiel.

“Please tell me you got something for me,” Cas said.

“Nah, just thought I’d bring in some more blood bags,” Dean joked.

Cas didn’t seem to understand his tone and looked hurt.

Sam, who had been holding up the heart to his nose, sniffing it, lowered it a bit to say to him, “He’s joking.”

Dean teasingly hissed at him, and tossed Castiel the duffel bag, which he awkwardly caught. He opened it, and Dean announced, “Went after a mother just for you. She had a baby boy with her. You needed one of those, right?”

“Dean, you shouldn’t have.”

“You’re welcome, babe.”

They leaned forward, and kissed, mouths all open and hungry, and Dean looked like he wanted to bite. Sam rolled his eyes, going back to sniffing his heart.

Dean turned back to Sam afterwards, pointedly licking one of his fangs (which had yet to retract) as if to tell him he’d just scored big time, both in the hunting department and the love department, and Sam came down the stairs, careful to not drop his prize.

“So what are we doing for Halloween?” Sam asked. 

The three of them were now making their way into the library as Castiel surely had books to go through for whatever spells he’d do with the dead baby.

Sam threw himself into a chair, propping his legs up on the table, and continued, “The usual go door to door, scare people out of their minds type thing?” Fangs out, and razor sharp, he took a bite out of the heart like it might’ve been an apple, but instead of juice, blood flowed down his wrist. It had yet to reach the fabric of his gray sweater since his sleeves were rolled up. After a few wet chews that were tantalizing on his tongue he asked, “Or are we locking ourselves in the basement with Cas and raising the dead again?”

Castiel eyed him a tad anxiously, though he was now handling the dead baby, pulling it out of the duffel bag, and going to grab some books. Sam eyed the corpse, wondering if there was still a heart inside.

“Nah, we raised the dead last year,” Dean pointed out. “Sorry, Cas,” he told him, going over and giving his ass a squeeze.

“And you ruined it,” Castiel argued, shoving himself away from Dean, arms full of centuries-old tomes. He dropped them down on the table, beginning to leaf through them. Sam snickered before taking another bite into the heart, moaning. “And you’re not off the hook either,” Cas snapped.

He looked at him, and asked, mouth full, “What did I do?”

Dean laughed.

“You refused to say the incantation correctly because you were busy howling at every stupid bright light you saw.”

“Oh yeah, forgot about that.”

“Yeah, you would’ve. You thought my moonlight crystals were the actual _moon_.”

“Well, they are called moonlight crystals,” Dean supplied, sitting down on the table. Castiel moved the corpse aside, making room for Dean, despite his apparent annoyance at him.

“Not helping,” Cas got out in a gravelly voice, sounding particularly vicious.

Sam and Dean both mock growled at him.

They ended up helping him with his endeavor, getting him specific knives when he requested it, though he requested it more of Dean, not liking that Sam was getting blood on everything, so Sam sat on a table across from them, nonchalantly licking the substance off his fingers once he’d finished his treat.

“What is it you need anyway?” he asked, though he didn’t know much about necromancy. Castiel didn’t keep to himself, but the magic he sometimes did.

“Babies can have different tailbone structures than fully grown adults given that as an embryo of ten weeks they uh… still have a tail.”

Sam shuddered.

“Some of your kind sprout fur from their cheeks when their blood pressure rises. I hardly think you have a reason to judge.”

“But a tail?” Dean asked. “If you needed one why didn’t you make me get a pregnant woman?”

Castiel straightened from his work, hands covered in bodily fluids.

“Really, Dean, can you smell pregnant women?”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Kinda, yeah, hormonal changes and stuff. They smell nice.” Cas’ eyes widened, eyebrows raising, and Dean added, “Delicious, I mean! Oh, come on, I’m not gonna fuck ‘em, not with a human already having been there and all that.”

“So you’d have sexual intercourse with human women who are virgins.”

“Forget it, why do you need the body part?”

Sam didn’t exactly zone out as Castiel started speaking about it, and he did honestly try to follow, but it was impossible to understand all the complex explanations, the anatomy he was discussing, the necromantic geometry, the symbology, the Latin. Though, Sam knew the Latin, but at that point he’d lost the context, so he wasn’t quite sure what was happening.

“Great,” Dean said when he finished, clearly not understanding either.

“In lay terms,” Castiel laid out frustratedly, “it’s to make the target or targ_ets_ essentially powerless.”

“Oh.”

Sam said nothing to that, mouth dropping open. He slowly walked over, pulled one of Castiel’s books towards himself, and then began fiddling with it.

“You sure that’s a good idea?”

“Perfectly sure,” he explained, sticking a hand into the corpse, creating a squelching sound. Sam just licked his lips anxiously, and Dean stared, fangs out, seemingly wanting the blood getting across the table. “How many enemies have we come across that use magic, or are creatures such as you two are?”

“Uh… a lot, I guess,” Sam answered, shaking his head. “But having that around—”

“I know.”

Dean snapped himself out of his bloodlust, gave Cas a kiss on the cheek and said, voice too eager, hiding some nerves, “Okay, this has been fun and all but I’m gonna go clean up, maybe watch a horror movie, think about what we wanna do on the big night. Cas, you’ll be in my room later, yeah?”

“Of course I will be.”

Sam gave Dean a casual wave as he walked out, and now Sam supposed it was his turn to take his leave. He’d finished his heart, and he was a bit of a mess himself. Besides, the dead baby was a little gross, and it was like Cas was teasing him with it. At this point he knew he wasn’t going to get a heart out of it, so why watch him mess around with his hand in its back?

“Don’t fuck my brother too hard,” Sam told him as he left. “Don’t need to buy another bed again.”

“Hey, that was Dean’s fault!” Cas called. “You know he’s got super strength!”

“Uh huh.”

Dean thought himself hilarious having every vampire movie that ever came out, even the bad ones. To be fair, most of them _were_ bad. 

He had finished his shower, and he’d seen Sam cleaning up as well, and then they’d talked for a bit. His brother had grabbed some supplies, and a leather jacket with brown fur on the collar, and was heading to a nearby graveyard for some supposed quiet time. The nerd. He’d tried asking if he was going to do something boring and dumb like read gothic romance by moonlight or whatever, but Sam was vague about it. Dean could hear that his heartbeat was elevated though, even smell some uh, chemicals off his brother that he’d rather not think about.

But if he didn’t want to talk about it, he didn’t want to talk about it. Last time he’d gotten involved in Sam’s sex life had been when he was with another werewolf named Madison and Sammy had had to put her down due to injuries she’d sustained from a hunter. He’d never quite come back from that.

Now Dean was in his room flipping through his movies. He found a lame ass one, _Cirque du Freak: The Vampire’s Assistant_. It was only in his pile because it had vampires, and at least one angsty funeral scene involving Josh Hutcherson swearing at a corpse. He considered _Twilight_ for a bit, wondering if Cas would like the demented, stalkerish romance, if he might come in towards the end and see the sweet parts, the dancing, the restrained lust…

Nah, he needed darker.

Aha!

_Bram Stoker’s Dracula_! That was the one where Winona Ryder and Keanu Reeves _actually_ got married. _Interview With the Vampire_ was under it and he decided he’d watch that next. It was only around 3:00 AM. He had a few hours to spare till full-on daylight really crawled its way into the bunker. But god, there was also _Fright Night_, and _Only Lovers Left Alive_. Making him choose between David Tennant and Tom Hiddleston? A crime! He’d drink from both of them in a heartbeat. Ah, he’d figure it out. Or Cas would come and fuck him till it didn’t matter.

Dean still hadn’t set up a TV in his room, but he had a laptop, so he popped open the DVD case, grabbed the disk, slid it in, and after watching it painstakingly load, hit play.

And, full on blood, satiated, he was positively satisfied for the moment.

Sam went to his usual spot in the graveyard by an old northern red oak. At this time of the year at least half its leaves had fallen and littered the ground. He knew he didn’t need to be in a graveyard, but it was easier this way, less contact with humanity. Besides, seeing the occasional adventurous spirit was always interesting. And it wasn’t like he got cold. He had a higher body temperature than mortals.

As a werewolf he didn’t even need to keep to Dean’s schedule of being awake at night and sleeping during the day, but he found he preferred the moon much more than he did the sun.

He’d taken the Impala for this venture, as his brother would be in till tomorrow night, and Castiel hardly drove anywhere (unless it was to go out and buy more of those embroidered suits that Dean loved him in). Dean liked to be the one to take Castiel out for supplies for the most part, and the necromancer liked having someone with a bite at his side to threaten any sellers who didn’t want to comply. The businesses that remained open at night, underground, hidden from the human world would be rather shocking to most of humankind, but it’d been helpful for each of them in the past.

But Sam, Sam didn’t need to deal with all that. He had his own things he did. Sure, he liked hunting, running around the woods, killing. Reading was always a pleasure too, and when he wasn’t doing those things he tried to keep other packs away. Lebanon, Kansas was strictly his territory. It didn’t matter that he was an omega. In his mind, he had a pack. It was his family.

Without any work to do though, he knew he could have some fun. So he set out the red blanket underneath the tree, lit some candles that he put in little gold candle holders to make sure they’d stay put, and then he laid out his ingredients for the spell.

Werewolves weren’t magically inclined and were a bit cut off from it, but Sam did this frequently, and had gotten better at it. He had also learned that fueling it with the animalistic side of himself actually managed to increase the potency of the magic instead of decreasing it.

After putting together the ingredients — graveyard dirt, a cat skull (Castiel adored cats, so they only took from naturally deceased ones), some yarrow, a few other herbs that he’d stolen from Castiel’s stores, some dead man’s blood (that he kept well away from Dean), and some of his own blood — he spoke the incantation. Sam made sure his teeth had come out, thick and sharp, and that his eyes were glowing. He felt his blood pumping through him, screaming for the hunt, the kill. But god, he wanted something more, he wanted what this magic would give him.

He lit a match, set a fire upon the bowl of ingredients, and they sparked, smoke flaring up into the dark night.

When the smoke cleared a petite woman of pale skin, and dark, wavy hair stood before him, her eyes completely black. She smiled as her eyes returned to a more human brown. She was usually dressed casually, but tonight she was in a dress of black leather, that barely covered her thighs, and was low cut, her pale skin visible to him with his enhanced eyesight. The way it showed off her body, her nicely sized breasts, mm! And it left him to imagine that tight ass.

“Ruby,” he greeted, giving her a wolfish grin.

She came forward, leaning into him, putting a hand to his lower back.

“Sam, put those teeth away. I’m a demon, not another one of your kills, or a potential mate.”

“No?” he asked, picking her up, and sniffing along her neck, tongue coming out to lap at her. She didn’t have the scent or taste of werewolves, certainly not, but she was just as intoxicating to him, just as beautiful. Dean and Castiel didn’t know of his escapades with her, but they didn’t need to. Besides, surely one of them had tangled with a demon before. “Don’t want to be my mate?” he asked.

“And give birth to demented demon-wolf pups?” she asked, giggling as his mouth found her chin and he scraped with his teeth. “No, thank you.”

He did have his teeth return to a more normal human form at that, sweetly sucking on her skin now. She gripped his face, and pulled back from him, though her legs were wrapped tightly about his hips. And oh, how he just wanted to press up into her, but he restrained himself for now.

“So what do you want from me, Sam?”

It felt odd to just say sex. It was more than that for him, and he hoped it was for her too. It had to be. She stayed with him afterwards. Sometimes they’d talk, sometimes they wouldn’t, but there would be something in her eyes, a passion, a heat that spoke of a dangerous intimacy. Occasionally it was even soft.

He placed her down on the blanket, and then sprawled himself out on it. Ruby knelt by him, fingering his leather jacket.

“What I always want,” he tried, hoping that’d be enough for her. He swallowed roughly, not wanting to explain further, but surely she knew.

She looked away, sadness on her face, and her hand slid down his torso, before trailing off of him.

“Sam, I can’t… Hell—”

“I know.”

“My superiors are suspicious of my nighttime visits to Earth. And then I come back smelling like a dog.”

“Hey!” Sam sat up, now frowning. “I do not smell like a dog.”

“Tell that to a demon. Our noses work differently.”

“And uh… do you… like dogs?” Sam asked, blushing.

She slapped him on the chest. “Ew, don’t turn this into bestiality! Even I’m not into that.”

“Then what are you into?” he asked, lowering his voice, cradling her head and pulling her towards him.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?” she purred, getting on him, straddling him, and pushing him back down to the blanket.

“I would.”

Sam let out a low, pleased laugh when she bit his neck, seemingly teasing his true nature, and he put a hand under her dress, between her legs and rolled, getting himself on top. And oh god, she wasn’t wearing anything else besides the dress it seemed. He used his knees to widen her legs, really settling in between them. She tilted her head back, moaning as he swirled his pointer finger over her already-wet entrance. Oh, he was hardening knowing she had come to him wanting.

“Mm, not really in the mood for foreplay,” she told him.

“Prepared yourself already?”

She shook her head, grinning at him.

“No, you just get me worked up. Besides, I was torturing a soul before you summoned me. That does get me a bit ready anyway.”

Sam ignored the moral qualms of that, and besides, he killed for fun sometimes as it was, and she was just doing her job. He began grinding down against her, her juices getting on the front of his jeans. Sam could feel blood rushing in his ears, his vision turning red, and his claws were coming out, teeth sharpening, ready to bite. He held himself back, just held her body, but let his claws dig in. She cried out, arched into him. Ruby always loved when he drew her blood.

He started lapping it up, rubbing against her, hard, and she was doing the same, begging for him. Sam was letting out desperate growls, needing her just as much as she needed him.

He raked his claws down her left arm, leaving a long trail of bloody marks, and she writhed beneath him before forcing herself out of his grip with her demonic strength. She set to getting his clothes off, first his jacket, and then she didn’t bother with his sweater, but she was undoing his pants just enough to get his cock out. When Sam plunged into her he tilted his head back and let out a cry. She did the same, but grabbed him, pulling him down, wanting him deeper.

Her legs wrapped around him, going all the way up near his shoulders to allow him to burrow himself into her as much as he wished. Ruby smiled at how much he surely stretched her, and her eyes glinted black in the night.

Sam went at her hard, but kept his bites gentle, and he licked where he could, when he could manage to keep himself calm enough. She was like velvet and fire around him, hugging him, squeezing him, wanting everything he could give to her. And Sam ached from how aroused he was, from the sheer amount of pressure and pleasure throbbing through his cock, and even his balls, which would slap against her ass with each thrust.

Eventually she used his momentum to roll him over, and she got on top, but not to fuck him, to have him keep going at her. She just wanted to sit atop him, feel like a queen on a throne, surely. And Sam felt like a king lying beneath her, her blood dripping off of her to soak into his clothes or patter onto his skin.

After he came he reverted back to his normal form, and was kissing her, hard, laying her down beside him to play with her with his fingers, wanting her to feel pleasure as he just had.

“Ruby… Baby, cum for me.”

He pulled her dress down, lapped at a nipple, and pinched it between his teeth, and she suggested, voice in broken moans, “Maybe… maybe put that mouth… somewhere else.”

Sam grew positively lightheaded from the idea, and he lowered himself, lifting up the skirt of Ruby’s dress to taste where she was most vulnerable. She pet his head through it, hands soft and firm in his hair, egging him on, telling him he was doing a good job. The way her body was arching, legs trembling, was doing that for him to. And oh, the cries leaving her. It was almost enough to make Sam hard again.

Eventually, after about a couple of minutes of him pleasuring her this way, she reached her end when he was sucking on her clit and simultaneously flicking it with his tongue. He continued to eat her out through her peak, enjoying her taste, enjoying the way her body involuntarily tried to get away from him, not knowing what to do with itself.

He found himself growling at her afterwards, some instinct deep inside of him saying she was his, and that he was hers.

Ruby was panting, laying her head back, and Sam joined in beside her after fixing his clothes, wrapping an arm around her.

“Fuck, you always make me sore,” she breathed.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

Ruby laughed. “Don’t you dare apologize for that. I fucking love it.”

They lay there, watching through the half-bare leaves of the tree as the nearly-full moon slowly lowered in the sky. Sam kissed her head, her hair soft against his lips, sweet-smelling in his nose. If he could stay like that forever, her heartbeat in his ears, against him, warmth coming from her body, he’d be happy. But she was a demon, and he was a werewolf. And he had a family to get back to.

So by the time it was dawn, and the sun rose over the horizon, gray light streaking into a bloody red, neither of them could be found in that graveyard.

Castiel finished up the first part of the spell. He couldn’t truly complete his work till a few nights from now. There were components that took patience and waiting, unless he wished to lower the effects and speed things up. The sun had yet to rise, so he figured he would join Dean. He could go out during the day just fine, but the dead and their spirits were more restless at night. The daylight almost… burned them away, as it were.

Dean was lying on his stomach on his bed, laptop open, smiling at something on his screen. He was licking his lips, a hunger in his eyes, but Castiel knew it was certainly only generated by whatever movie he’d chosen. There were moans and cries that could be heard from the device. 

Castiel slipped in, closing the door behind him, and Dean jumped.

“Sorry, I uh… didn’t smell you, or hear you.”

“Cloaking spell,” Castiel explained, lying down beside him, seeing that he was watching one of the scenes from _Bram Stoker’s Dracula_ where Jonathan Harker was in his cell in the tower and being groped and fed on by Dracula’s three gorgeous brides. It was a rather non-consensual scene, but Dean’s delight at it meant nothing about his real world pleasures. Cas eyed the scene for a bit, watching Jonathan grow too weak from blood loss to struggle, and explained, “I wanted to surprise you in bed this morning, find a way to give you a bit of sensory deprivation.”

Dean growled under his breath, but then the movie switched to the next scene and he closed his laptop. He placed it on the floor, and turned, fully paying attention to him. He traced a finger over his chest.

“So no heartbeat, huh?”

Castiel grabbed his hand, began kissing and sucking on it. Oh, the feel of Dean against him was good. He was unlike a human. Humans were much too alive for him, too close to the natural world. And Castiel had tried to have an undead partner, one by the name of Amy, but she had killed him, and he’d had to resurrect himself. So no more undead, and humans weren’t what he was into. But Dean, Dean was flawless. Beautiful, freckled skin, so smooth, so difficult to even leave marks on. Castiel loved the opportunity to try. And his heart beat, but it was a different kind of life. And blood ran through his veins, but almost cold and slow, like some sleeping thing, closer to the dead, and farther from life. But still he existed, and he talked, and he breathed in Castiel’s presence. It was marvelous.

“Not at the moment. Some _other_ bodily functions will work, though most of them have been shut down at the moment to render me a being of the living dead. Have another spell working keeping me alive.”

“Cool, always wanted to fuck a zombie. You gonna eat my brain?”

“Dean, zombies don’t eat brains, they eat mortal flesh,” he reminded him, not sure how his lover could forget such a fact.

Dean shrugged, and then grabbed his chin, pulling him in for a kiss. His hands were already on his body, undoing the buttons on his shirt. As Dean finished his task, he pulled away and then burrowed his head lower to nuzzle at his neck. He came away frowning.

“Okay, yeah, this sensory deprivation thing is weirding me out. Maybe I need another sense removed?”

Castiel smiled at him, and sat up, removing his tie, before wrapping it around Dean’s eyes and tying it at the back of his head.

Dean gave him a grin, showing his perfectly white teeth.

“Oh god, now this I like.”

“Now get up, take your clothes off, and lie back on the pillows,” Castiel instructed.

Dean hurried to do just that, but moved his body in exactly the way Cas loved. Beneath his clothes Dean was strong, hard muscle all except for his abdomen, and Castiel adored the imperfection, this bit of him that was so himself, that he was confident with, that he let him see. While Dean did that, breathing heavily, cock already semi-erect, Castiel busied himself with undressing as well.

He licked his lips as he eyed Dean. His lover could be more fun than a corpse. With corpses and the dead there was so much to do with them, so much to explore, so much untapped power in the realm of death, but with Dean there was another power, that of sex. Sex tapped into the the magics of light and heat and life and the body. Even between two people of the same gender it was an essence of creation, of two beings that had once been stars thousands of years ago to bring together friction, and motion, to fuel it into heat, their biology registering it as pleasure, and sometimes even pain. It was a magical act, something Castiel wanted to understand better, but it was alive, and so he supposed he never would. There was too much of an emptiness in him for it to make sense.

He set to work on Dean almost immediately, but he was slow about it even though he was ravenous. He sucked at his thighs and nibbled while he felt over his hips and his abdomen, and Dean grabbed onto the headboard, whimpering. His cock was fully hardening now, twitching against his stomach.

“Cas, baby, please, just… Fuck, I hate when you do this.”

Cas licked a stripe up Dean’s leg.

“No, you don’t.”

He bit, making sure it was hard, and he tried to bruise. Dean growled, muscles tensing, toes curling. Castiel kept it up as he crept his hands closer to his manhood. Oh, he was aroused just watching this. Any time Dean was in a state of bliss Castiel became hungry for him, just wanting his body for his own. The things he loved to do it. And the things Dean loved him doing to him. They belonged to each other. Vampires mated for life. Necromancers were usually loners, but Castiel had broken that code a long time ago once he’d found the unlikely pair of brothers: the boy bitten by the werewolf, and the one turned by a vampire.

He was pumping him now, grip nice and tight, but doing it too slowly, wanting to be frustrating. Dean’s leg twitched as if he was trying to kick, but it seemed it was difficult with all of Castiel’s weight on him. Dean was much stronger, but Castiel was large for a man, could sometimes keep him down if he straddled him the right way.

“Mm, you want to sit on my dick?” Dean asked. “All nice and hard just for you, baby.”

Castiel’s insides quivered at the thought, and a shudder ran through his legs. Both brothers were a rather nice size (as Castiel knew since he’d accidently walked in on Sam in the shower once), but he loved Dean, so nice, and thick. Dean grinned, the look oh so sexy with his tie about his eyes.

“Felt that, baby.”

Castiel brought his mouth to Dean’s balls, and began kissing gently, sucking, feeling them lift at his touch, his cock twitch. He ran his thumb over his slit, over and over again. Dean groaned.

“You penetrated me last night. It’s your turn.”

“Come on, don’t tell me you don’t love it when I’m all up in there, playing your ass just right.”

Castiel stared at him, though he knew Dean couldn’t stare back, but he hoped in some way he could sense his blue eyes on him.

“You’re lucky you’re cute. The dirty talking is really not doing it for me, and it never will.”

“A man can dream.”

“A _vampire_ should know better. Necromancers are very set in their ways.”

Dean huffed, but then he let out a cry when Castiel licked the underside of his cock.

“Okay, okay, oh god, if quitting the dirty talking gets me more of this, I’ll do it! I’ll do it!”

Castiel knew he had him now, and he sucked him to the best of the ability. With a lot of his bodily functions turned off, the dial on that ability had turned up greatly. No gag reflex was in the way of anything, and no feeling of choking was bothering him either. It was driving Dean wild.

At one point it had become too much for Dean apparently because when Castiel was getting off the bed to grab the lube Dean grabbed him, fangs out, growling, and he bit him, pulling his legs around him, body searching for a way into his. Cas didn’t panic. This happened with Dean every once in awhile, and it always filled him to the brim with lust till it was pouring over and he was burning, his cock leaking precum.

Castiel knew spells to get away from Dean, to subdue him, but he wanted this, even enjoyed the pain bleeding through his shoulder. Dean’s cock was throbbing hard against him, and he was grinding, nearly slipping into him dry.

“Dean, imagine me inside you,” Castiel breathed, voice a low gravel. His lover was sucking at him now, but his blood was slow, viscous due to nearly zombifying himself.

He gripped tightly at his hair, pulling, breathing in his ear, lips whispering across his skin, “Imagine me pounding and pulsing and throbbing and filling. Imagine that one part of me _alive_ in you.”

Dean groaned, and released him, placing his head against his shoulder, breathing heavy, slowly rocking.

His fangs retracted.

“Oh fuck, I need that.”

“Good boy.”

Castiel did everything to ready him, and then he was slipping into him, Dean’s body relaxing to allow him deep entry on the first stroke. He went at him with Dean on his stomach, and Dean jerked his hips back into him, going harder than Castiel was, panting.

They could be tender with each other, in the moments between the sex, holding each other, arms around each other, helping each other with their endeavors, making sure they were in good health, but now it was like they were trying to find what made them them. What part of Dean was truly Dean? Was it the vampire? Was it this pleasure Castiel was getting from him? Was it his throaty screams he let out into the air before Castiel started covered his mouth, risking getting bitten just for the thrill of it, and loving the splash of blood across his palm? Was it all of it? Was it the deep sense of belonging, the rightness, the desire to never be apart again?

Castiel didn’t know, just knew he had to try and go deeper, and harder, and Dean wanted more, always more.

The bed was slamming against the wall, Dean holding onto the headboard with one arm for support. It cracked down the center, but Castiel didn’t care, but then the legs of the bed gave way, and they fell onto each other, Castiel still in him. They were kissing, both of them laughing, but still hard with want.

“That was your fault,” Castiel intoned.

“I’ll tell Sam it was yours,” Dean said.

“Like he’s going to believe you.”

Castiel finished up in Dean, deep inside him, and Dean didn’t even need his hand to reach his own end, jerking back against Cas, body squeezing tight around him.

“Oh fuck,” Dean moaned, as Cas lay down beside him now.

Castiel was tired, but not sweating due to the spell, and he was idly running a hand up and Dean’s back.

“Think we were loud enough to wake the dead,” his lover joked.

“Shut up.”

With a kiss he did.

Dean slept fitfully through the day, though he was sure he’d heard Sam come home, and Castiel had done a few chores before going to bed. Sam smelled of sex of course, even through the damn door when he walked by, and was that brimstone clinging to his skin? Ugh, dude had to take a shower, and stay the hell out of Hell.

Maybe the demons had good deals involving hearts down there, he didn’t know.

But it was around midnight when he came out of his room. Sam and Cas were dressed, discussing something in the kitchen. Sam was eating cereal, of all things, and Cas was making a sandwich, but he was stuffing tiny things into it that Dean thought might’ve been stripped parts of human muscle.

“Dude, you really slept in,” Sam told him, looking, and _smelling_, clean now, thank god.

Dean shook his head, feeling groggy. He wasn’t bruised anymore from being manhandled and bitten by Cas, but god, he wanted more of it. Screw the taking turns thing. He wanted Cas to take him like that for a month straight. But at least he could smell and hear him again. It had almost gotten depressing during the night not knowing if he was around when he’d gone back to bed except for when he was touching him.

“Yeah, whatever. Halloween tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah,” Sam informed him.

Dean dug through the plastic pumpkin they had on the table, wanting to skip sucking up any blood for now, and feeling in the mood for candy. It didn’t do anything for him, but he’d be damned if it didn’t taste good.

Sam frowned as Dean started tearing into a Butterfinger.

Castiel sat down with his sandwich that had the partial dead person in it. Dean knew well enough by now to guess that it would surely heal the bite he’d given him the night before. Or… Dean didn’t smell a lot of Cas’ blood. Maybe he was fortifying his skin against him? Dean lowered his brows at him as he chewed.

“Why do you eat that anyway?” Castiel asked.

“What? I like it,” Dean admitted, mouth full, teeth coated in chocolate, and sticky nougat.

Cas raised his eyebrows, and then grabbed his sandwich, taking a bite of it. A bit of the raw meat fell out, and he picked it up, popping it in his mouth, glaring at Sam who looked like he very much wanted a piece. “It’s not a heart,” Castiel told him after swallowing.

Sam just about pouted, and if he had doggy ears, they would’ve drooped. Dean laughed.

“Okay, so Halloween,” Dean began, hand out. “What if, the three of us, we go out, pretend to be human. Find a party in a club or something somewhere.”

Sam winced. “Dean, that’s not really my scene.”

“And the strobe lights will reflect light off of Sam’s eyes. I’m not sure even contact lenses could give that effect. He’ll expose himself.”

“Fine, then we go kill a guy in an alley?”

“Dean!” Castiel admonished.

“What?”

There was silence, Dean enjoying his candy, Cas his sandwich, and Sam’s cereal was forgotten as he thought something over. 

“Kids go trick-or-treating, right?” his brother asked eventually.

“Yeah,” Dean answered slowly, not quite getting what he was going on about.

“So, Cas, raise us an undead kid or whatever, make us human for a bit with that stupid thing you were working on yesterday, and let’s go out.”

Dean frowned, sitting back in his seat. An uneasy feeling sat in his stomach as if he’d just had dead man’s blood.

“Uh, yeah, let’s not do that.”

But Castiel’s eyes were already lit up. God damn it! Was Dean the only one with sense around here?

Sam, Dean, and Castiel found themselves in a graveyard, the one Sam frequented. There was a gravestone he knew pretty well there by now. It had the name “_JACK KLINE_” etched into it. The boy had died at seventeen, but they knew some teenagers liked going out for trick-or-treating one last time, and if a group of men were hanging around, so what? Not like they were going to do any harm. Besides, they could pass as friends, or uh… some kind of family, people that just wanted to go out and have a good time with him, who would maybe take him out to a party later.

Sam leaned by the tree he’d occasionally fucked Ruby against while Castiel did the spell, and Dean watched it all, practically drooling, eyes only for the necromancer. A vampire in love. How charming. And Cas, Cas seemed high on some undead power. 

After an hour of ritualized chanting inside a circle of lit candles and symbols drawn into the grass and graveyard dirt with blood, the first hand clawed its way from the dirt.

A huff of amazement left Sam. Damn, those zombies could really dig their way out of there. He’d even had to break his coffin, but there he was, head and whole torso poking through now. Hips came up, legs, he lost a shoe, but didn’t seem to mind.

Unlike in most horror movies the fancy clothes he’d been put to rest in weren’t incredibly torn when he came up. He was just extremely dirty, so much so that Sam could hardly see his face. Dean was squinting at him, surely hoping he wasn’t an ugly child. Sam wouldn’t care if he was. He just wanted someone to enjoy the night with and be kind to for a bit, someone to join their group.

The undead teenager stared at them, dark blue eyes taking them all in, with some sort of intelligence behind his brain. Eventually he held up his hand in a simple greeting, smiled, and Sam felt warmth in his chest.

“Hello. I’m Jack.”

“Jack,” Castiel said, “you’re going to come with us, alright? We’ll be good to you.”

He looked behind him at the gravestone that had his name, frowned, and then turned to each of them, staring intently. It wasn’t a frightening gaze, just a curious, childlike one. He shrugged lightly, dirt falling from his shoulders and hair that Sam couldn’t quite tell the color of just yet.

“Alright.”

Dean was wary as they got Jack to the bunker and cleaned him up, gave him some clothes, and told him his part. But at least he was a cute looking kid he supposed. Every human would surely fall hard for him, give him whatever he wanted, with those cheeks that plumped up when he smiled, the fluffy hair that looked like it’d turn a dark blond in the right lighting, the almost-adorable lips. Dean kind of hated him. Cas was doting over him, trying to brighten his skin color, bring more life into something dead, but no matter what he did there were still those awful bags under his eyes.

“Maybe he can go out as a zombie,” Dean suggested as they were now gathered in Jack’s temporary room right next to Sam’s. “That’d fool some people. They wouldn’t worry about a thing. He’d just need to look a little more gross.”

“Gross?” Jack asked. “Why would I want to look gross? I like being clean, and free. I was in the coffin for a long time.” He tilted his head. “You’re... not… human,” he observed slowly. “Do you have a coffin, Dean?”

Sam laughed lightly. “Dean, he’s got a point. Maybe you should have one. You _are_ a vampire.”

“I’ll have a coffin when I’m dead, and you could put my head on a stick over it with a “_KEEP OUT_” sign. I don’t want Cas fucking my obviously gorgeous corpse.”

“So glad you have so much confidence in me,” Castiel breathed out as he was tying Jack’s shoes.

“So how’s this gonna work?” Dean asked. “Not like we got costumes lying around, unless you want us all wearing black robes.”

“I need those robes,” Castiel said, now rising.

Sam ruffled Jack’s hair, and Dean stared, startled that he was doing something so fatherly. If this lasted longer Sam was probably going to start nuzzling against him like a damn wolf. Jack smiled at the touch, leaned into it, not in the least bit surprised. The kid was loveable it seemed.

“I suggest we go out, buy costumes,” Castiel said. “All of us can go if I do the spell. The components can be ready if I do something to speed up the process.”

“Alright, fine,” Dean breathed.

At least this would be something to do, he supposed. And maybe their Halloween plans would be fun. Besides, he’d never spent much time with a zombie. Right now Jack was just looking at everything with great interest. Maybe Dean wouldn’t hate him so much later. But he didn’t know. This upset the balance of their group.

Castiel knelt before Jack, hands on his knees, trying to get him to pay attention to him. Sam crossed his arms, leaning forward in interest, and Dean just leaned back against the door frame.

“Jack, do you have any hunger at the moment?”

The zombie boy frowned. “A little.”

“Alright, well one of us can get you some food if you like, but we’re going to go out tomorrow night, and you can’t harm anyone, alright?”

“Why would I harm someone?”

“You wouldn’t mean to. It’s just in your nature. But it’s in all of ours as well. We’ve learned to manage when being in the realm of humans, though it takes some practice. But you’ll do fine with us watching over you.”

Jack nodded. “Okay. So I’m going as a zombie?”

“You are a zombie,” Dean reasoned.

“Yes, a zombie,” Cas told him. “We’ll all go as ourselves.”

Castiel could tell Dean wasn’t comfortable with this, and Sam didn’t seem to enjoy the spell either, but he’d gotten the components together, crushed them up in a bowl, said the proper incantations, and laid the temporary magical brands upon Sam and Dean’s chests. They were in the shape of pentagrams encircled by rays like that of a sun, and they showed up as black tattoos on their skin.

“As long as these are visible, you’re human. They should only last a little over twelve hours, and they’ll wash off in holy water.”

Already Castiel could tell it was taking effect, his friends staring at everything, sniffing things, rubbing their hands against objects.

Castiel did the same to himself with the magic, but altered it slightly, searing it into the right side of his abdomen. It showed up as various sigils. This way if need be he could unlock his powers in an emergency. Something drained from him, something familiar, something he knew to call home, and suddenly he felt very lonely despite being with his family.

“This is fucking weird,” Dean said.

“So I’m not gonna have to restrain myself during the full moon tomorrow night?” Sam asked.

He picked up one of Castiel’s many jars of embalmed organs, sniffing at it. Usually he’d pull his head back in disgust at doing so, picking up the scent even through the glass and the metal cover, but now he just pressed his nose closer, right against it. Castiel went over and took it from him.

“I think that’s enough,” he said.

Meanwhile, Dean was busy with his ear against one of Castiel’s worktables, tapping the wood repeatedly, making a strange face as he attempted to hear the vibrations as he used to.

“Huh,” he commented after a few seconds more of investigation, straightening.

And Castiel’s effects were still exhibiting themselves differently. He could glance at the objects in his work room, the things of great magical quality, the organs, the metal storage cases where he kept a few cadavers, the books, but there was a distance, a separation. Though he wanted to feel a great need to use all these things, it simply wasn’t there, and had gone missing. Now his eyes just glanced over it, took it in as something that a human would find creepy, and moved on.

With a veil between what he loved, his mind drew to other things now. But Sam and Dean were still struggling somewhat, frowning, pouting, shoulders drooping as they left the room.

Dean eventually started swearing, punched a wall, yelled when he got hurt and started bleeding, and then swore some more.

“This human thing sucks! Halloween’s not gonna be fun like this, Cas!”

Castiel grabbed him by the waist to take him to the infirmary, and Sam told him that he’d meet up with them in the library with Jack and go over a list of what they’d need for makeup and other supplies.

Castiel hoped this would be worth it (though he was nearly one-hundred percent certain that it was), or else this Halloween was going to be worse than the year before. It didn’t have to be a big deal for them, but they were three supernatural entities who lived in a bunker all by themselves in the middle of nowhere in Lebanon, Kansas. What else could they be doing?

Dean shifted as he sat on one of the infirmary beds, and Castiel was tending to his hand, not exactly being gentle.

“Sorry, used to working with corpses,” Cas told him as Dean instinctively tried pulling his hand away, but then gritted his teeth, and kept it steady. “People are a bit too alive for me.”

“Cas, you feel good about Jack?”

“Yes, I like him. You don’t?”

“I mean, he’s a zombie.”

“You like zombies.”

“Theoretically, or like, when they’re a couple miles away and I can watch them through the fields or something. But taking him out tomorrow night? That really a good idea? What if someone gets hurt?”

“Since when do you care about humans?”

As an answer Dean pulled his shirt down, revealing the brand he’d received.

“So this is about you.”

“I don’t know,” Dean answered. He winced as Castiel poured hydrogen peroxide all over his hand. It was a wonder they had all this stuff. It was in case of emergency, and if they ever had human guests. Not used to the burning, sizzling pain of it, he tried pulling his hand away, but Castiel grasped his fingers, and then soothingly ran his thumb over them.

Dean bit his lip, meeting his eyes.

“We’re going to have fun,” Castiel told him.

“That a prediction you got from your crystal ball?” Dean joked.

Castiel’s face grew stern and very serious, and he answered, “No, I have a cadaver who was a clairvoyant. She told me.”

“Guess the dead care about Halloween now.”

“Dean, they’ve always cared.” Castiel tapped him lightly on the nose, making Dean’s cheeks flush, and he smiled. “_You_ just never paid attention.”

With Jack in tow, they went over what they’d need, and Sam noticed an excited flush to Dean’s cheeks talking about the makeup. He also fiddled with the black lace as they had the discussion. Jack just seemed pleased with everything, though he’d butt in with carefully worded questions. Sam loved answering them for him.

Eventually he was growing tired, but it was time the stores would be open, so Sam was left to babysit Jack, and Dean and Cas went out shopping for everything. Dean wouldn’t go outside at first, not wanting to feel pain at the sunlight, but Castiel managed to coax him out, and show him he was fine. Then the two of them were off, and Sam was left with the kid.

“So, I don’t mean to be blunt,” Sam said, “but what was being dead like?”

Jack leaned against the wall. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Sam, trying beer for the first time. He’d never had it while alive, and now that there wouldn’t be any consequences for him — no getting drunk, no hangover — Sam figured it was alright. Jack mostly just slurped the bubbles from the top, and then he’d tip it, bringing more liquid towards the edge of the bottle, and slurp some more. Sam found it ridiculously cute.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “I don’t think I was aware for most of it. I mean, yes, I think at some points I knew I was in a coffin in the ground, and that I was… gone, and… alone. But I saw my mother.” He tilted his head, seeming to come to a happier point. “She actually saw Castiel when he was raising me.” He tilted his head up, chin out, excited about something. “She thought he was… cute.”

Sam snorted, and had a sip of his beer.

“We’re not telling him that, not around Dean.”

“Does Dean not like me?”

“Dean can be tricky,” Sam answered. “It’s just been us three in here for awhile, so he gets… defensive. But he’s got a big heart. Maybe not to humans, but to creatures like us, the so-called monsters, he’s one of the good ones. Looks out for his family.”

Jack lowered his eyebrows, frowning, and looked down at the table, “And what will I do after this? Will I be put back in the ground?”

Sam drew in a sharp breath, but no exhale came. Oh god, he hadn’t even thought about that.

This was a zombie, but there was some sentience there, some form of existence.

And this was… this was a kid. A seventeen year old kid, but a kid nonetheless.

Sam liked him. Cas liked him.

Dean would eventually.

But four?

It baffled Sam, left a blank space in his mind he didn’t know how to fill in.

He’d wanted kids with Ruby for years. He’d wanted kids with Madison, even after only a few nights with her. It was easy to mate as a werewolf, bonds forming fast and strong. But Ruby could never give him pups.

Would having Jack around fill that for him?

Sam didn’t know.

But at least they were all… monsters, as humans categorized them.

Sam gave him a brief smile, hand taking up his beer again. “Don’t worry about it. You’re with us now.”

And Jack smiled, looking so damn innocent despite the dead coloration to his face. “Okay!”

Sam taught him how to clink bottles in a cheer.

The day consisted of Sam going out to get a body to feed Jack once Dean and Castiel got back, then catching up on some sleep while leaving Jack watching Netflix, and not even bothering to tell him to not go outside for fear that thinking about it would make him curious, and then they were getting their costumes ready. Sam was amused by the fake fangs, and the fur he could glue on his face with special makeup, and the tooth blood he could put on the plastic, and some he could put around his mouth. There were contact lenses for his eyes, which made them water incessantly once he put them in, but the yellow was unnatural, bright, and almost comical. The clothes with claw marks ripped into them made the costume even better. He was highly amused.

Dean had fake fangs, and fake blood to take care of as well, and white makeup to put over any skin that was showing. There were also some sparkles for those who were more into _Twilight_. He laughed over it with Cas, then ended up actually putting some on, and he found he was excited about the eyeliner and eyeshadow. At least he didn’t have to put in contact lenses like Sam. Dean shuddered at the thought. But hey, dressed in all black and leather to go with it, he was looking good.

Castiel was sure his costume was the most ridiculous by far. He had on a black robe with asymmetrical designs in it, long sleeves with ends that nearly touched the floor, and a pointy hood. And it all had gold embroidery. Dean insisted on putting makeup on him. He started with eyeliner, and then he drew symbols on his face, some Satanic, some old Norse, enough to look creepy. Dean had also ruffled his hair, saying he’d look much hotter that way. All Cas could do was look in the mirror and see a fool pretending to be a necromancer. But once he saw Sam he felt a lot better about all this. All three of them looked quite like humans trying to have some fun.

Jack took a bit longer since his makeup was a tad more extensive: fake bruises, peeling skin. But all three of them helped, and since Dean was quickly becoming the best at makeup, and even figured out how to get fake dirt on Jack, he did most of it. He seemed to bond with him too, Sam smiled as he watched (as much as he could with the fake teeth in). Eventually, with some fake corn syrup blood, and ripped clothes they’d rolled in a pile of dirt outside the bunker, Jack looked the part.

Pictures were taken, and the plastic pumpkin with the handle that was on the kitchen table was grabbed and emptied of candy, and Jack was led around town.

Sam liked the human interaction. The humans were kind, and quirky, and intelligent, and cute, and for once, he didn’t have the urge to kill them. Jack was getting loads of candy, and at one point, he was excitedly running down a walkway, half-eaten candy bar in his hand, a still-to-be-chewed chunk of it in his mouth, shouting, “I like nougat!”

Somewhere along the way their zombie boy had acquired a fake witch’s cloak, maybe from one of the other kids (Sam had been trying to interact with the parents more, get to know some of them, find out what their lives were like since they were so different from his, so he wasn’t paying attention all the time).

It was early now, just 8:00 PM. Well, he supposed for a human, it’d be getting a bit later, but not by too much. Maybe too late for young children though. Dean and Cas were wrapped up in each other, swapping uh… tooth blood and makeup, and Sam had an arm around Jack, who was going through his candy, looking for more nougat.

They were walking down a main road that had yet to be completely swept free of orange and burgundy leaves, listening to them crunch underneath their feet. Sam glanced up at the full moon, letting the cold air bite at his face.

This had been new, different.

He’d liked it.

He liked Jack.

Eventually as they walked, getting farther from town, they came across a small black lump along the road. Jack dropped his candy and rushed over to it. Sam tried to call him back, and Dean let out a startled cry, trying to do the same. Cas seemed to just watch.

Jack knelt down, and his back was to them. He was silent for a few moments, still, and then he was scooping it up into his arms. When he came back to them there were tears running through the makeup on his face.

Sam hadn’t known zombies could cry.

Jack directed their attention down to the little black bundle. It was a kitten, dead. God, now even his eyes were tearing up. So Sam could kill humans just fine, but seeing a dead animal made him lose it?

“Oh god, kid,” Dean said.

Castiel pressed a hand to his abdomen, hissed out a few words, gritted his teeth, and Sam felt like he was brushed by a comforting darkness that soon filled into Castiel. He then held out his hands gently.

“Give them here, Jack. It’ll be okay.”

Jack handed over the body, and Castiel was now stroking the little head, murmuring soft words in Latin, but sounding like he was cooing. Soon, the legs righted themselves, the chest rose and fell evenly, and two little blue eyes opened, whiskers moving forward as a nose began to smell and investigate.

Sam couldn’t help but smile.

Castiel handed the kitten back to Jack, saying, “She’s a girl,” and the little thing gave him gentle trills of greeting.

“Can we keep her?” Jack asked.

Sam looked at Cas, silently asking, _Can we keep_ him_?_

Dean joined in on this silent conversation, and relaxation and certainty settled on all of their faces.

A burning started up on Sam’s chest, and Dean shifted, reaching out to rub at himself over his leather jacket, the same surely happening to him.

Sam’s world came back to normal.

He was a monster again, a monster and proud. They all were.

Dean took out the false teeth, let his real ones show, Sam quickly took out the contacts, not caring about the proper way, just about crying his way through it, and then letting his eyes quickly heal, took out the fake teeth, and then he let himself be. His claws came out. Dean put an arm around Jack, picked up his plastic pumpkin of candy to carry for him, and they continued walking home.

“I think we all make a good trick-or-treating group for Halloween,” Dean said. “We gotta do something bigger next year.”

And that was the answer.

The tiny kitten climbed up on Dean’s shoulder, and made its way onto his head. Sam howled at the moon, and she mewed with him. Jack, their newest addition thanks to Castiel’s necromancy, laughed, and they were all ready to face the night.

“Well, I don’t know what just yet,” Sam said, “but Happy Halloween.”

And all cheered back at different times, ecstatic, “Happy Halloween!”


End file.
